


Dead To The World.

by Little_Scorpion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8378227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Scorpion/pseuds/Little_Scorpion
Summary: AU: Bellatrix survived the final battle and is a lost, lonely soul, dying from her grief. One man is looking for her, will he find her in time?





	

She should have died that day, she should have died when Molly ‘Ginger Cunt’ Weasley hit her with that curse. But she didn’t. 

It was the strongest curse Bellatrix had ever felt and she was convinced if it had hit her in the heart, it would have killed her, but as luck would have it, the jet of light struck her inches above it’s mark. So she lived. Crumpling to the floor in agony unable to move or scream which was what she had really wanted to do while the battle raged all around her. The fallen witch had been forced to lay and watch her masters demise, she’d heard him scream when she had toppled thinking her dead, if people thought he was incapable of caring for anyone, that scream and his anger at her supposed death would have changed their minds. He had cared, he’d cared for her and her alone. And their child. 

Even now eighteen months later the thought of him made Bella’s heart constrict in pain, the pain of a loss so deep she didn’t think it would ever heal, maybe it would have if she had Rodolphus to love her and make it better like he always did, but he was gone too, fallen in the battle and Bella was alone. 

They’d left her there, lifeless and cold while she had to endure pain so intense she thought it was going to kill her, and she wished for it, wished it would, but it didn’t, no, Bellatrix Lestrange was stronger than that and she lived on, unable to move, unable to blink, unable to do anything other than wait. 

She saw her sister kneel at her side, heard her mutters of “I’m sorry, please forgive me.” And Bella wanted to scream, wanted to hex her to the seven hells, wanted to cry and tell her how betrayed she felt, she had chosen Draco over her, her baby sister, the one she had always protected, the one she had suffered their father for, the one she had always thought would never ever hurt her, lies, all of it, the blonde in the end had sold her out for a boy who was as cowardly as his spineless father. 

And so Bellatrix endured the taunts of how, Voldemort’s greatest general, his first lieutenant, the most feared of all his death eaters had been taken out by a mothers love to protect her children, what would a cold killer like Bellatrix Lestrange know of that, they had said and Bella wanted to laugh, tell them she knew full well what it felt like, knew full well the pain of not being able to see her baby again. 

Being unceremoniously thrown on the pyre to burn with her Lord and Master, no Lestrange crypt for her where she and Rodolphus were meant to be buried together, Narcissa hadn’t protested, but then Bella supposed her sister had to lay low, didn’t want to bring attention to herself and in a way, the dark witch didn’t blame her, Narcissa would never survive Azkaban. 

Rodolphus.. Dead. she’d seen him get hit with green light moments before she had, it was, she reasoned, how that frumpy house wife had got her, her eyes for one second had left the ginger woman’s when she saw Rodolphus fall, her wand which wasn’t her own had jerked to the side and the curse had flown under her arm hitting her in the chest. Rodolphus. Dead. 

She had accepted the fact she was doing to die, but when the flames had licked their way close enough and she closed her eyes ready to let them devour her, her hand twitched and without even thinking, acting purely on instinct, she apparated away, unnoticed and unseen. 

So now, to the world, Bellatrix was as dead as her Lord and for the sorry state she was in, she might as well of been. 

She didn’t have to run, they weren’t looking for her but she had tried to stay hidden as best she could none the less, she was after all, so easy to recognise with her mass of dark curls tumbling down her back.. so she cut them off as short as she could manage and had taken on the look of a sort of dark little pixie, no one seemed to even notice her now. 

The months tumbled on and Bella wandered, lost and alone, wishing for death, wishing for something, anything to stop the pain, the gaping hole of grief in her chest haunted her every waking moment, and her dreams. The two men she loved most in the world were gone, leaving her behind, her sister had betrayed her, her daughter left with people who wouldn’t even believe it was her if she showed up to claim her, that was if they had escaped Azkaban, if not, then she didn’t even know where Delphi was. 

She fucked strangers just to try to feel something, anything, a spark of life, they always looked like Rodolphus, but she felt nothing and it always left her feeling more empty then ever. 

She met a man one cold winters afternoon and did the reckless thing of letting him take her back to his dwelling, she barely escaped with her life after nearly a week of torture sex, she was at breaking point and took shelter in a tumble down inn in the middle of nowhere. 

She was dying and she knew it, purposely starving herself, her grief was killing her, suffocating her from the inside out and when the landlord was about to wake her to tell her he was closing up for the night, he hadn’t the heart to throw her out into the cold, so he left her sleeping, head on her arm leaning over the on the table, pale, dark eyed and sad. “Poor lamb.” He whispered softly as he kindly covered her with a blanket. 

About to close up and let the sorry looking witch stay by the fire, the door had opened letting in a stream of freezing air and snow from outside, a man in dark clothes with the most intense blue eyes wandered to the bar and slumped on a stool. 

Sighing, the landlord took back his position behind the bar and poured the stranger a whiskey to warm him. The man nodded his thanks. 

He’d been searching for someone for the last eighteen months, closing in on her trail but losing her at the last moment each time he got close, of course his target like him, knew how to stay hidden when she wanted too and he felt he was no closer to finding her now than he was in the beginning. 

Rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed tiredly. “Got a room spare?” He asked the kindly looking landlord who was refilling his glass. 

“Nope, all full on account of the weather, you can stay by the fire though, just don’t disturb her, poor witch looks like she’s not slept in months and could do with a few hearty meals too.” The landlord nodded towards a sleeping woman in the corner, short cut raven hair, pale skin, so very thin, a shadow of her former self but Rodolphus Lestrange would know her anywhere.

“Bella….” He whispered it with so much emotion it choked him and he was already sliding off the stool, walking towards the woman he had been searching for. His wife, his Bella, his little scorpion. 

He stood over her and let his eyes drink her in, she was sickly looking, her breathing rasping in her chest, but she was still the most beautiful thing he’d laid eyes on in almost two years. “Oh my Bella, where’ve you been, I’ve been searching for you.” 

He was crying as he reached for her and feeling his touch, she opened her eyes, they were glazed and lifeless, dull and had lost all their shine. Blinking rapidly and making a noise of pain, the exhausted witch weakly pushed the hand away and coughed, blood on her lips. But the hand wouldn’t let her go and it was only then, when she was about to reach for her wand and curse the fucker to the seven hells, her eyes looked up and met his.. and her breath caught in her throat. Was she dreaming? Or dead? “Rodolphus..?” 

It was all he needed to hear, she was in his arms in less than three seconds, he’d pulled her up by one thin arm and crushed her to him, holding her so tight he threatened to break her ribs but she responded just as fiercely, gripping onto him and sobbing into his chest. That hole in her own, closing, filling slowly with the love he was pouring into her. “My Bella, my beautiful Bella..” 

They stayed by the fire in the inn that night, him holding her tightly against him, her sleeping peacefully for the first time in nearly two years, safe, warm and content in his arms. They left the next morning and disappeared leaving the landlord with a romantic story of how a poor husband and wife separated by the war found each other again in his very inn. “Love conquers all.” He would add when he finished his tail, each and every time, and maybe it did.


End file.
